The Winchester

I love the Christmas season. It is easily my favorite time of year.  There are things to be said about summer and spring and fall and all, but when it comes down to it, gimme some winter action anytime. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy some warm weather.  It is definitely nice to head on outside for a pick-up basketball game in some shorts and a t-shirt, rocking those new sneaks you just bought and need to break in.  Well, I'm told it's nice.  I haven't played a pick-up basketball game since birth, and I'm not really sure how one goes about picking one up anyway.  It was kind of supposed to be a metaphor.  Or something. Here's another that I relate to better:  It's definitely nice to head on over to the pool when it's bright and sunny and hot out, head right on up to the water, turn around, and let yourself fall back into the water.  Now there's  something I can deal with.  While I'm swimming around, I like to catch me a quick pick-up water polo ga

I just returned from Ocean City, MD today after a 3 day excursion with my girlfriend, her cousin, and her cousin's fiance. Nichole and I go to OCMD at least once during the off-season, as it is an excellent place to relax without dealing with any and all of the normal crowds that tend to swarm the peninsula come summer. When we go, we stay at a place called The Haven Hotel, located on 1st street. A nice little hotel, very good off-season prices. Also, there's a jacuzzi in the room. Not in the bathroom, but in the room. It's awesome. We bring bubble bath. So a few blocks down from the Haven is the world famous Purple Moose Saloon. By world famous, I of course mean not world famous, but some people know of it. I have developed good feelings towards the Moose, as it has served me well in the Drunk Department the last two times we have enjoyed the off-season. The previous visit resulted in a $90 bar tab between myself and Nichole. At some point during the night, she had the ide

Back in the 80's, the years 1983 and 1984 to be specific, the youth of America was treated to the emergence of a new, cool vehicle not given it's due in years before. We were exposed to the coolness of the helicopter. We had seen planes, trains, and automobiles, but before this time the helicopter was more of an after-thought. The grown-ups of this time knew of them, sure, but only in a traffic-copter or rescue-copter capacity. We of the younger generation, though, knew more about fire engines and jet planes. We were content with that. Then, along came the helicopter. Not just the Red Cross Rescue Helicopter, I'm talking helicopters with weapons . In 1983, a movie was released by the name of Blue Thunder . This was about a high-tech military helicopter piloted by one Roy Scheider, he of Jaws fame. He plays a LAPD helicopter pilot who is selected to pilot this new, super advanced badass helicopter called Blue Thunder . There is an evil plot, plenty of helicopter ac

On July 17, 2007, I posted a blog with an opening line about a commercial I saw the night before. Instead of writing about that commercial, I put up a bunch of pictures of He-Man figures I used to own. I'm not sure why I did this, but I did. So there you go. I have decided it is now time to talk about the commercial. I said in that blog, the commercial made me think, People will buy anything . I was correct in this assumption. The commercial's intensity follows in the footsteps of Girls Gone Wild and available DVD's such as those. It does not, however, match the content. Instead, this DVD series is about.... .... ....wait for it.... ....Trains. It was a commercial for a DVD series called Lots & Lots of Trains . The announcer comes in with something asking if you love trains and here comes Lots & Lots of Trains. Along with this scintillating talk comes an MTV-style montage of train footage. Big trains, small trains, fast trains, slow trains, red fish, blue fish, one

As of today, I will have been a member of Weight Watchers for nine days. This may have been the longest commitment to a healthy activity I have ever not quit . I have told myself before, "I'm definitely gonna start working out," as I started the second quarter of an important football game... on Madden ... on PlayStation. "I need to eat better," while finishing off that pesky last bit of the half a DiGiorno pizza I just demolished. "I'm going to start going to the gym," which is similar to the first quote, which is something I said while passing an apartment complex gym while heading out to pick up the Chinese I just ordered so I can chow down while watching the movie I picked up from Hollywood video that I plan to watch while I eat that Chinese food . The food I ordered enough of to feed two people. The food that will be eaten only by myself. I'm actually drooling now. So I was warned by a friend of mine that when starting a diet and w

Yes, Kermit enthusiasts, I realize he sings about being green. I love the song, too. I have commandeered the chorus of the song for my own purposes because every Sunday (and the occasional Monday) is a challenge, when it really shouldn't be. I am speaking, of course, of the fan support I offer up to the Baltimore Ravens . I love football season. I will watch the Orioles or pause on a Wizards game, and even tolerate a Caps game if the bar has it on. I will kind of almost follow the World Series , and tune in during March Madness to watch some college b-ball (having money on a pick 'em pool doesn't hurt). I'll tune in to the Olympics for curling. None of these comes close to football, for me. And I'm not referring to college ball, but the National Football League . I don't even know what it is about it that puts it at the top. Is it the game itself? Is it because it's only once a week, which makes every game count? Perhaps part of the appeal is

Cow Creek Ranch is located right outside of a small New Mexico town called Pecos. I don't think there is a stop-light in the entire town. There is a few stop signs, I know that much. Also, they take credit cards. I know this because I bought beer right before heading to the ranch. Can't fish without beer. Seriously, it's in the Fishing By-Laws. That I made up. When heading to the ranch from Pecos, you drive up to a dirt road, onto the dirt road, and follow it for about 45 minutes through the mountains up to the ranch. Even once you pass the Cow Creek gate, you still have about 10 minutes of dirt road to traverse. It is an enjoyable ride, but make sure you're rolling with 4 wheel drive because there are some serious divots to work around. A few scenic moments when you hit the top and work your way down, but mainly it's just a lot of forest and several sequestered houses that you will wish you owned because it would be awesome to live in the woods and not have anyone

The tranquility of the water. The early bird chirping of the early bird. The sun peeking over the horizon, slowly warming the ground and casting off the fog floating lazily across the land. The half open eyelids and groggy plodding towards the fishing ground to hopefully catch a large slimy fish and unhook a metal hook from its mouth in triumph. This is early morning fishing. We fished later in the day, too, though. The area provided to fish was enormous. The ranch had 7 small lakes, each stocked with trout. There were rainbow trout, brook trout, brownies... I also caught an awesome 2" brook trout, which is pictured here. There was also a river running the length of the property and beyond, with small pools set up at different intervals along the stream. So you could fish a small patch of the river, or spend a little time at your own personal pool trying your luck. They really split e verything up well, dividing the different areas up by room. At dinner the night bef

I'm not sure why the Powers That Be decided to schedule the extra-curricular activites right after lunch each day. The day before we went horseback riding immediately after lunch. Today, archery. Immediately after lunch. It's New Mexico, in the middle of the mountains, and I'm about to go shoot stuff with arrows. Time to stop whining. I've archered before. I was a Boy Scout in my youth, even though many of the lessons didn't quite stick. I do remember something about being trustworthy, which I feel that I am. I was not always, but I am now. I remember getting an archery badge at a Boy Scout camp, and I recall a similar activity in high school, too. So I'm familiar with it, I know what to expect, and I'm pretty sure I will excell as usual. We met with our guide, Katie, a little while after the aforementioned lunch. I had a huge hamburger covered in green chilis, but that's not important right now. Besides, I covered that in the food blog . I just wanted t

The last time I actually rode a horse was probably back in Boy Scouts. Maybe at a fair somewhere as a child, taking a wild ride on a stoned and tethered horse walking in a circle. Holding tight on the reins in fear of the horse going wild and taking off through the cotton candy laden crowd. Or perhaps I was The Lone Ranger, trekking through the wild west in search of fortune and fame and a town to call my own. **insert The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly wah-wah-wah theme here** So it's somewhat understandable that I approached my horse-riding activity (one of some of the other activities they offer during your stay at the Cow Creek Ranch) with some trepidation and wariness. Will my beer-gut be the catalyst to finally break this horse's spine? Will my manly-man-scent be enough to drive the steed into a frenzy of jealous hatred and buck me off? Am I just a few minutes from living out my life as the former Superman had to live his? What if I hurt my junk on the saddle? All these were

I enjoy some Mexican food as much as the next red-blooded American male who likes to fart. I love me some chili con queso, a good taco, sizzlin' fajitas, etc. There is, however, a stopping point. There is such thing as too much, although I have at least two friends who would disagree with me. When we arrived in New Mexico, we drove to Santa Fe to our hotel. From there, we found ourselves the first of several brew pubs and sat down for a beer while we waited for another of our party to show up. Chris, the guilty one, lives in Colorado and was driving to meet us and had not arrived just yet. So, the rest of us decided to enjoy our wait by downing some New Mexico beer and appetizers. We had nachos and chips with dips and some quesadillas. When we met up with Chris, we all went to a fly-fishing shop where I bought a $75 fly-fishing hat, then headed out to dinner. Finding another brew pub, we sat down for a nice meal. A nice, Mexican food meal. I had shrimp fajitas this time around, an

New Mexico is awesome. Like many of our mid-west to west-west states, it has a very open feel to it. The skies are huge, because the land is so flat. Not entirely, of course, because all that flat land leads right up to a mountain. You can see so much more of the sky, it's incredible. The clouds look enormous. They are basically the same clouds I can see out my window now, but because everything is so open you don't just see the cloud above, you see the whole cloud . I put that in italics because it is important that you focus on those words. I've heard that some people have a sense of claustrophobia when viewing such skies. For them I suppose it feels like the sky is almost pressing down on the earth. I don't really understand it, but I thought I'd bring it up because I jotted something down about it on the little notepad I was working with and it seems like a disservice to my New Mexican self to not diligently report everything I decided to distract myself